


Winners

by RainKiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cinderella Elements, Gen, Harry and Hermione!brotp, Rags to Riches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainKiss/pseuds/RainKiss
Summary: Harry is practically a no one. In debt to the Dursleys and basically a pauper, he takes part in the state annual flying race, incognito, and wins to everyone’s disbelief. Ginny is the most sought after celebrity Quidditch Player in the land. She sets out to find the mystery winner.  Hermione is the awesome Fairy Godmother and Ron is a little more mature and a little more loyal than in canon.





	1. Oppurtunity

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of the characters used in this story. They belong to their creators and save for the plot and scene, there is no plagiarism.  
> Magic is widely known. Muggles do not exist.  
> Mentions of physical and psychological abuse.

“Boy!” Uncle Vernon’s growl poetically shattered the windows. Well, not really, but Harry could easily imagine it. Ever since he could remember, he’d been designated to ‘Boy,’ ‘Freak’ or ‘Hey You!’ Personally, Harry preferred ‘Hey You!’ It sounded like the starting lyrics to a popular and catchy song.

“Yes, sir.” He panted, rushing up from his place in the kitchen. He’d been cleaning up the mountain of dishes that had been left dirty after Dudley’s seventeenth birthday party. It had been a grand celebration, worthy of a prince. Or so Harry believed from the noise he could hear from his closet like room. 

“Where are the documents? You better have finished them – ”

“It’s done.” Harry said hastily, running towards his room to get the file on one of his Uncle’s business projects. Harry usually did the typing up since it was a lay-man’s work as his uncle would say. Harry secretly enjoyed doing it. It had given him experience in understanding what kind of work Vernon did and where he cut corners and how badly he could get sued if any decent attorney caught wind of it. Harry suspected it could be blackmail one day - when he’d have the guts to try and blackmail his uncle, that is.

Uncle Vernon barely went through the sheets, hoping that Harry had bungled up. The consequences after making a spelling error a few years back still left a sharp burn in his mind.

“You were supposed to give this to me yesterday.” His uncle said, looking put out that he hadn’t found any mistakes.

Harry swallowed nervously. “Yesterday was Dudley’s birthday. Aunt Petunia wanted me to make the pudding and set up the tent –”  
“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

“I didn’t have the time!”

Uncle Vernon swelled up, “Time management is the best thing one can develop. You’ll be worthless if you can’t balance your own time!”

He grumbled as his uncle descended into a lecture which was basically an attempt to destroy Harry’s practically non-existent self-esteem. A really good attempt. Harry cringed as he looked at the several dirty plates still needing to be cleaned. If only the Dursleys would let him use magic to finish up his chores…

“Work-life balance shows what a man is made of! Your sad excuse to push off your troubles onto others will be your downfall!” Vernon boomed. Harry nodded. Hopefully, his uncle would tire himself out and leave. If he didn’t finish cleaning the kitchen by evening…

“Just like your good-for-nothing parents! Why they’d probably be proud to hear how good you’ve become in making up excuses and lying all six ways to Sunday!”

Harry hid a wince. His parents had died when he was barely two years old. He’d been left at his mother’s sister’s doorstep. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken him in out of the goodness of their hearts, they’d always remind him of this.

(The reader can visualize the air quotes around the word goodness, I’m sure.)

Harry shifted, feeling very out of place in his worn and torn clothes. Aunt Petunia’s kitchen ought to belong in a catalogue for the wealthy. It was pristine and perfect (all thanks to Harry, of course.) 

Why couldn’t they have gotten a house elf? Why did he have to slave himself all though his life?

Oh yes. Harry had been leeching off of the Dursleys ever since he could walk. They reminded him of the incredible debt he owed them due to their service of being his guardians.

“Are you even listening, boy?! See, this is what happens to rotten eggs! I should have sent you off to an orphanage!”

Harry’s temper boiled at the thought. While he could handle all of their abuses and curses, it was the topic of orphanages that always broke him.

“Then why didn’t you?!” He shouted.

Uncle Vernon looked so startled at the outburst that he nearly dropped the papers. And then his face turned red.

“Unlike you, we do not shuffle off our duties to others. We took you in and raised you as well as we could and you still are the wastrel your parents were!” His moustache quivered from the anger.

Harry bit his lip but returned the glare. “I would have preferred to be in the system.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? But I suppose it’s too late to give you up. Not to mention your debt.”

Harry groaned. 

“Don’t make that face, boy! You know what you owe us. Four hundred and ninety three galleons, no more, no less.”

“What?” Harry yelped. “Last year, you said it was three hundred and fifty!”

“The time difference and the fact that this is your last year as a child. When you turn seventeen, Morgana forbid, you’ll have to pay me the entire sum, plus the interest.” His uncle whipped out a roll of parchment, holding it up for Harry to see. It was something he’d seen a dozen times before. The statement saying how much Harry owed the Dursleys.

There was no way he could get 493 galleons within a month. He knew that once he was 17, the Dursleys would kick him out. For the past whole year, he’d been involved in a small job at a clinic around the corner. He’d been trying to save up the gold to pay his uncle and then some. But now, everything seemed to crash around him.

“I’ll run away.” Harry threatened. His voice shook and his uncle looked on smugly. 

“And where will you go? Who’ll take you in? A mongrel like you will be rejected everywhere. You’ll end up dead in the gutter somewhere, I imagine. And what’s more, if you leave without paying, I’ll sic’ the Aurors on you. You’ll go straight to Azkaban. A pathetic boy like you wouldn’t last a day there.”

The threat of Azkaban hadn’t been used in a few weeks. Harry had read horror stories of the prison and he shuddered. He didn’t think that he’d really get thrown in a place with Dementors, but the thought unnerved him. 

“I better get the gold by the end of the month.” Vernon threatened. “Or else, you’ll barely even live to regret it.”

Harry nodded his head, looking down at his holey trainers. His heart felt cold, sinking through his chest, down to his feet. His throat was dry and he turned back to the dishes.  
“And do something about that hair of yours or I’ll shave it off!”  
I’ll shave it off!”

~*~*~

“Ginny!”

“Ginevra!”

“Ms. Weasley! Over Here!”

Ginny slipped on his shades as the cameras flashed towards her. She shot the reporters a wide smile as Cedric led her up the steps to the building. Ginny waved around at them, ignoring the requests for autographs or photos. She may be fifteen, but she wasn’t naïve. If she stopped for one, she’d have to stop for a hundred.

“Ginny Weasley! How does it feel to have your name up on the list of top ten celebrities to be watched?!” Tami Creevey shouted from the side.

Since Tami was Colin’s mother was, Ginny, turned and made one comment. “Brilliant.”

“Ms. Weasley!” Another reporter called. “What do you say about your overnight success? Critics have been calling you a one shot wonder, how do you respond?”

Her instant response would be to say, ‘Screw them.’ But Cedric Diggory, her agent, had strongly recommended her to not swear in public or say anything without thought. So, instead, she said. “My success was not overnight. It was the result of years of hard work and perseverance. I practised day in and day out to reach where I am. And I will keep doing my best till I decide otherwise.”

Cedric pulled her along subtly and Ginny turned away from them, wishing the glares from the cameras weren’t so devilish.

Once they got through security and were walking through the halls, Ginny sighed.

“That wasn’t too bad. You kept your head this time. I’m proud.” Cedric said lightly.

“Oh please, Ced. You should expect a little more from me by now.” She said, looking around the place. Her father was supposed to meet her before they went to Gwenog Jones’ office. 

Ginny was England’s youngest new Quidditch Player. She was spotted at a local game where her chaser instincts and strategy was snatched up. Cedric Diggory had seen potential in her game and had suggested to her parents to send her for a match in Scotland. The prospects were large and fantastic. At first, her parents had refused saying that she was too young for such a life, but Ginny had insisted and begged until she wore them down. It was just one match. What was the big deal? Even if she didn’t win, the experience would help her.

They went to Scotland and she was involved in a brief two month training with one of the teams. They won the series.

Her instant fame catapulted her on first name basis with several reputed national level teams. Ginny was a rising star in the business of Quidditch and though her schooling was put on hold, she had no problems with it. Ginny took to the play like a Flesh Eating Slug to flesh.

Bad analogy.

Just last week, her family had decided that Ginny would take up the Holyhead Harpies’ request to try out for their team first. But they wanted her to focus on her studies as well, so with a preliminary meeting with Gwenog Jones, Ginny’s future would be practically set.

She couldn’t wait to get out into the world and spread her wings. She had always dreamed of playing at an international level. May be after the Harpies, she could even get a chance to represent England.

She let out a breath to calm herself. Whoa, Gin. Take it slowly. It’s your life, don’t just rush into it.

Ginny smiled when her father exited the floo point beside which they were waiting. He gave her a hug and shook hands with Cedric. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“No.” She said easily. She grabbed her father’s hand, practically jumping on the spot excitedly. This was it. With this meeting, she’d be placing her name in history as the youngest player to sign up with the Harpies. It was an honor and she knew it.  
Gwenog was very welcoming. She was clear and precise about what she would expect from all her players. The training would be intense and since Ginny had selected the option of being home schooled, her life was about to be taken for a spin.

“Most of our players are also in the habit of taking part in small competitions to keep up their involvement in the games. Since you’re underage, I’d advise you to not try them, there can be a lot of politics involved. But I’ve seen you play and I can tell that you’d do well with the extra work.” Gwenog said.

Ginny’s heart swelled at the praise.

“Now, just wait a second, Gwen.” Cedric said. “We’re just here to see how Ginny’s schedule can accommodate all the practice. It will be a while before we can take up anything else.”

“But what if I’m interested in them?” Ginny asked, frowning at Cedric’s refusal. Did he think she couldn’t do it?

“I think what Cedric believes is that we have to adhere to a set of regulations or else it would be difficult to manage everything.” Her father said gently. “Extra games can be something that we’ll consider after you’re seventeen.”

“But I can manage it now!” Ginny protested. “The Harpies’ training doesn’t start until September. It’s still the holidays and since I’m not going back to school, why not do a little extra on the side? I could fly just for fun and stuff!”

“It’s not just that, Ginny.” Cedric said quietly. “There’s a lot of bureaucracy involved with non-Ministry competitions.”

“Quidditch is not supposed to come under Ministerial boundaries.” Gwenog said in an offhand voice. “And when has there not been bureaucracy when the Ministry are involved anyway?”

“It’s just one game!” Ginny whispered ecstatically to her father. He levelled her with a look and turned back to Gwenog.

“When is the closest one?”

“Yes!”

“Arthur, I would suggest you take some time to discuss this. Gwenog was right when the offer isn’t given to underage players. They can be scrupulous and can get out of hand. Not to mention most players are not registered with official teams and regular people may take part for fun as well.”

“Isn’t that good, then?” Ginny argued. “Everyone gets a chance. It sort of levels the playing field.”

“Yes.” Cedric said, a little impatiently. “And if a non-professional happens to beat a professional player, the press will have a field day.”

“I can take a little loss.” Ginny said fiercely. “I’m not in it to win it.”

Gwenog looked a little edgy from the comment. Her father seemed proud though.

In the end, she got to take home the pamphlet for an upcoming race. It wasn’t a Quidditch game. Instead, people were individualised to fly in a race that involved several laps and hurdles. But it involved every participant to face challenges a keeper, chaser, beater and seeker usually would in a game. Ginny liked the challenge and registered for it immediately.

~*~*~

“Everything alright, Harry?” John asked. Harry had been quiet nearly the entire hour that he’d been in the office, tidying up the place. His job was to just clean up the rooms and make sure all the necessities were placed in the right positions. John was the local healer and he ran a successful business along with his wife right next to their house.

“Yes. Just a rough day at home.”

John smiled sadly. He knew about Harry’s situation. Unfortunately, it did no good to report the case. Harry’s magic fluctuated too much for his age. Whatever bruises he suffered from the Dursleys tended to heal overnight and the authorities needed solid evidence to label the family guilty. Harry’s debt to them was also facilitated by the fact that the official rumor was that the Potters had borrowed a lot of gold from the Dursleys before they’d died. It meant that Harry was actually entitled to pay the amount when he reached adulthood.

Harry arranged the vials newly shipped in. He did his job methodically and John could respect his work ethic. A boy like him had no business being mixed up in the Dursleys’ dirt.

“I’m sorry.” John told him. Harry gave him a grateful look before turning back to the shelf.

While Harry liked working at the clinic, it was the hour after the work that was his favourite time of the day. The Healers nodded as he left the building and crossed the street to where John lived. The man’s daughter was one of the few friends Harry had.

“Hey Hermione.” Harry called out through the tall house. The Grangers were some of the newest families to have moved in their country neighborhood and Harry loved their two storey house. It had a seamless combination of a modern, homely place that a perfect family would have. The people who lived here were quite friendly as well.

“Hi Harry!” Hermione looked up from her essay. She went to a posh school and had a good deal of summer assignments more than Harry’s local school. She’d be busy for a few days but it wasn’t spending time with her that was the best part.

Sure, Hermione was a wonderful person once you’d gotten to know her, but Harry ran up to the dining table where she was seated and breathed heavily for a bit before asking her,   
“Where’s the broom?”

“Cupboard.” She said rolling her eyes. “The same place you leave it everyday, Harry.”

He grinned and thanked her before hurrying towards the cupboard under the stairs to retrieve her broom. John had bought it for his daughter, but Hermione had no interest in flying, stating a strange fear of heights. Harry couldn’t understand it. Flying was when he felt most free. He was ecstatic when Hermione had said that he could borrow it whenever he wanted since she never touched it.

The broom seemed to respond to him more than it did to her anyway. Harry loved the Cleansweep. It was in good condition. Hermione had said he could have it, but Harry was afraid that the Dudley would find out and break it out of spite.

He rushed towards the secluded grounds behind Hermione house and clambered over the broom, taking off effortlessly.

As the wind blew through his hair, Harry smiled. This was where he wanted to live. In the air, away from the Dursleys and the reality of his life.

He flew within the cover of the house, not wanting to be spotted. The broom was old and jerked about a bit but Harry could hold good control and even do twists and barrel rolls with it. He’d tried a Wronski Feint once. Only once though, because he’d nearly hit the ground and Hermione had seen him and had yelled at him for ten minutes straight. He’d wanted to try it again but decided the risk factor was too great. Maybe if he had a better broom….

Harry laughed. The prospect of anyone giving him a nice broomstick was practically ludicrous. The Grangers were kind enough to let him take the Cleansweep out for a spin but he’d never ask them for anything. Besides, he was trying to save up his gold in futile hopes to pay back Uncle Vernon.

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the broom circle lazily a few feet above the ground. The smell of freshly cut grass hovered all around him.

When he was done, he went back inside the house. The sun had set and he dropped the broom in the cupboard before bidding Hermione goodbye.

“Wait a sec, Harry! I have to show you something.” She called him back and started flipping through all the parchment sheets on the table until she picked out a publication that usually contained the latest in spell discovery and Arithmancy. This time, she pointed towards a colorful advertisement.

“The Annual Summer Flying Race! It’s to be held just a few weeks from now!”

Hermione looked far too excited for an ad that was related to broomsticks and flying. She usually stayed away from such things.

“I’ve seen it. They put up posters all around the market.” Harry said, sitting beside her. Hermione tapped the page insistently.

“You have to go for it!”

“What? Are you mad?”

She slapped the magazine down and pointed at the print below. “Look! They have a higher prize gold this year. Winner gets 300 galleons –”

“Whoa!” Harry pulled the magazine towards him. It hadn’t been this much last year. He looked down the list of prizes, feeling overwhelmed.

“You have to participate!” Hermione said excitedly. “You can fly better than any of these people and you need the gold anyway!”

“Some of these are professionals, Hermione. And did you forget what happened last year?”

The previous year was something. Harry and Hermione had decided to get tickets to watch the race. It was a galleon per head and Harry had scrimmaged and saved every knut he could only for Aunt Petunia to unload a hoard of chores for him to finish within the day and he’d ended missing the whole event. He’d nearly cried when he realised that he wouldn’t get to see the race.

“I remember.” Hermione said sourly. “I still think they did it on purpose. Dudley must have found out somehow that you were planning to get a ticket and he told dear mummy. But you’re not getting tickets this time, Harry! You’re participating!”

“Registration fee is 5 galleons.” Harry reminded her. “That’s three weeks worth of work. Not to mention, my aunt would do the same to me again this year. I’d rather not bother.”

“Merlin’s beard, Harry! You can’t let them win. If you just give up and lie down, of course they’ll roll all over you.”

“There’s an image.” Harry grumbled. 

Hermione sighed. “Harry, it’s not fair. You deserve to go to this thing. I’ll give you the gold. You’re so good at flying, I’m sure you’ll at least bag a consolation prize if not the main ones! You’ll get twenty galleons then.”

He looked at the advertisement. The race would have several celebrities, professionals and veterans registering as well. The maximum number of participants was fifty.Three rounds with eliminations. Bludgers and lances, Quaffles and a Snitch at the end. Harry wasn’t sure he would even last five minutes.

“You’ve always wanted fly professionally, didn’t you?” Hermione asked quietly. “This is your chance! Go for it! What’s there to lose?”

Harry almost laughed. “Hermione, you can’t be serious! I’m not even Quidditch material!”

“Quidditch requires a team. This does not. Look we can get you some flying gear and you can practice everyday –”

“I dunno….”

“You need the gold.” She said firmly. “You love flying. You’re fantastic at it!”

The Dursleys would never allow it. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if they would take away his wand and make him clean the house from top to bottom. 

“Harry, please. Just…. stop thinking about ‘what ifs.’ Think about what could be! You can do this!”

“I want to.” He whispered. “I want to do this, Hermione. But I know they’ll never let me go!”

“Sod the Dursleys!” She said angrily. Hermione only ever swore when the Dursleys were considered. It warmed Harry’s heart considerably.

“Look. I can pay the fee. We can polish the Cleansweep and maybe get it serviced –”

“That’s too much!”

“We can practice every day! No one will know!”

“There’ll be a thousand people in the stands. They’ll know!”

Hermione huffed. “We’ll put glamor charms on you. I’m good at those.”

He stared. “You’d do that? For me?”

Suddenly the prospect seemed very inviting. No one would know who he was. If he got something out of it, it would help paying back Vernon much easier.

“Of course, Harry. You’re my friend.” Hermione said. She patted his arm and looked at the ad.

“What if the Dursleys give me the usual chore list?”

“They may stop you from using magic but I still can.” 

Harry looked down at the paper. The number '300' was flashing at him and the word 'galleons' was printed in neon. Just the thought of so much gold scared him. But it was the best and craziest idea there ever was. If they could pull it off, Harry would be free. 

She beamed as Harry nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”


	2. Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practice and Round 1

“Freak!” Dudley shoved Harry into the bush before running in, cackling to himself. Harry groaned and tried to remove himself without upsetting the neat organization of the lawn. In the process, he ended up ripping another tear in his jeans and had several scratches all over him.

He hobbled into the house only to meet a very angry Aunt Petunia. “Where have you been?! Do you know how late it is? ”

Harry hesitated. “Healer Granger…. He asked me to stay back a bit to finish sorting the new batch of herbs. They had to be done quickly.”

She watched him down her nose and stabbed a finger in the air. “Get to work. We’ve been starving for hours.”

Starving. They wouldn’t know what the word meant. Hunger was one thing. Starvation was when the lack of food made the stomach rumble painfully, gave him light-headedness, made his own breath nausea inducing. Harry recalled numerous times when he was sent to his room without food for a literal number of hours rather than the exaggerated amount Aunt Petunia had complained. He barely had control over his borrowed wand to get more food without them locking it up half the time.

He got the afternoon’s leftovers from the shelf and heated it. The food was separated evenly onto three plates and he kept the rest of it in a small bowl for himself, hiding it inside his robes.

“Dinner’s ready.” He called, placing all the dishes on the table along with the tumblers.

He got glares but nothing was said as they took their places. Harry made himself walk up the stairs to his tiny room. After gorging on the handful of dry noodles, he gave a small burp to tell himself that it was a good meal and that the next day was going to be even better.

In the morning, once his chores were done, Harry met up with Hermione outside her parent’s clinic and they took the Knight Bus to the centre of town. The cloudless sky reflected the excitement around the vast open space where a stadium would be erected for the game. Harry felt butterflies in his stomach just by looking up at the gigantic banner announcing the prizes for the winners.

“There’s the desk. We can fill the form over here.”

“There’s a form?” Harry asked, suddenly worried. He had his hood over his face at the moment, in case someone recognized him and the Dursleys caught wind of it.

“Don’t worry.” She reassured him. “It just asks your name, occupation and signature to confirm that you agree to the terms and conditions. We can put in fake details and your handwriting’s so atrocious, nobody will be able to trace it.”

Harry huffed but looked the other way as Hermione stood in the line for registration. There was another desk on the other side of the building where tickets were being sold. He remembered the excitement in saving up money to watch the game before being crushed by his cousin. This time, it would be anonymous. No one aside from the Hermione knew that Harry could fly and John and Jean would never say a word against their daughter.

He imagined winning the game. Amidst all the stars, he’d be the comet, flying on a Cleansweep dodging the bludgers, scoring goals and finally, catching the snitch at the end. Harry had never even seen a real, whole snitch, let alone held one. Dudley had had several but had always hidden them from Harry. They had always ended up being broken anyway.

Hermione came back with the registration form and a pocket ink tipped quill. His hands shook slightly as he started filling out the spaces.

“Jamie Evans?” She asked. “Harry, I know that’s a good name, but I think you need to establish some distance from…. you know? Harry Potter?”

Harry blushed. His mother’s maiden name was Evans. So was Aunt Petunia’s. If they did decide to check through the list, he’d probably get caught.

“Change the Evans to Stevens. Don’t make the correction too obvious.” She suggested. Harry shook the quill to get a splotch mark over the ‘E.’

“Good thinking.” She said.

Occupation was put down as ‘Seeker in Training’. He had always thought that was his speciality.

“I’ll need a consent form!” Harry hissed. “Look at this – All underage competitors will require –”

“Harry, you’ll be in disguise!” Hermione whispered, looking around them frantically. No one seemed to notice them. “You’re nearly seventeen anyway, just mark it as 18. I can give you a five o’clock shadow with the charm, if you want.”

He swallowed, writing down, ‘18 years.’ At the bottom, he gave a flamboyant signature comprising of only two large letters – JS.

“I’m glad that they don’t ask for identification.” Hermione said, rummaging through her purse for five galleons. The gold coins spilled onto the form and Harry hesitated again.

“Hermione…. Are you sure…..”

“Yes. I’m sure that I want to give my gold to my friend who deserves it. My best friend.” She said so firmly that he looked up in surprise.

“Best friend?” He hadn’t thought about it. They’d known each other for nearly five years. She’d been his first friend who hadn’t been scared away by Dudley. She’d always helped him out when he was in the dumps and she’d swear at the Dursleys just for him.

Hermione gave him a soft look. “Of course.”

She would be the proudest person if he managed to win this. She would be the happiest if he entered the competition. Harry gave her a smile, submitted the form and paid the fee.

~*~*~

They practiced for days. Hermione would throw golf balls at Harry who would dodge them while flying circles around her. He flew through trees at breakneck speed, dived from a height of thirty feet and practiced other stunts that were bound to give anyone watching severe anxiety.

Hermione made him limber up to stretch out his spindly muscles and warm up before the practice. John seemed to know that they were up to something and always let Harry off duty earlier than before. The Dursleys were still oblivious as to why Harry came home dirty and exhausted after sunset. Hermione trained herself in changing hair color to last several hours rather than the standard one hour time limit. She progressed to altering the shape of the face rather quickly as well.

Harry was more confident. Every time he took to the skies, he smiled and felt like shouting like a fool. He wanted to close his eyes and glide among the clouds. There was no debt, no Dursleys and no worries up there. Just him and freedom.

He was brought back down to the ground rather ungainly just a week before the race when Aunt Petunia called him into the living room while he hadn’t yet finished weeding the garden. Harry looked curiously at her as she gestured towards a long and thin package that was set on the tea table. 

His breath hitched. It was obviously a broom. But why would they buy one? It wouldn’t be for him. Obviously. But Dudley wasn’t a flier.

“What – ” Harry began but his aunt hushed him and made him wait until his uncle and cousin entered the room.

“Whatever it is, I don’t care!” Dudley was shouting at his father. His face had gone ruddy and he shook from the indignation of having to walk all the way from his room to the hall. “I was busy! I have stuff to do!”

Dudley stopped at stared at the package. Harry saw the anger melt into surprise. “What’s that?”

“It’s a gift, sweetpea.” Aunt Petunia said with a flourish. “Your father and I know that you were interested in the race next weekend. And since you already know how to fly….”

Uncle Vernon picked up the package and handed it to his son. “We want you to enter the race. You –”

“Really! This is brilliant!” Dudley cried and ripped the brown wrapping cover off of the broom. Harry stifled a gasp.

It was the latest in the Firebolt series. Its handle was sleek and shined to the max, the twigs at the end were perfectly straight and the foot holds were positioned at just the right angle for a speed flier. Harry swore he could feel its power from across the room. Dudley gaped at the broom while the adults looked at their son with pride.

“Yes! It’s what I’ve always wanted!”

“What?!” Harry yelled. Dudley had never shown any interest in flying. Was somebody Confunded? What was going on?

Uncle Vernon shot him a nasty look. “Quiet you. We intend for Diddy to take part in something that would require the best of the best.”

No, Harry thought in horror. They wouldn’t.

“We heard you talking about the race they always hold in the city.” Aunt Petunia said excitedly. “So, here you go! You’ll win for sure!”

They would.

“Oh.” Dudley said. The enthusiasm was gone. “I’m not actually interested in the race. Piers was. He’ll be so jealous –”

“But… honey… you have the skills and the right tools. You have everything you need to win.”

“Yeah. But I’m not really intere –”

“It’s a 300 galleon gold prize.”

Dudley stared. Harry swore that his eyes shimmered. “Really! Cor! Now, I’m definitely going for it!”

“That’s my boy!”

“Oooh my Diddykins! He’s going to make me so proud!”

Harry nearly barfed. He turned and practically ran from the room. He had to hold himself back from slamming the door to his room.

It was so unfair. They’d barely given a thought to Harry, as usual, but this felt like the last line had been crossed. Harry stared at the small window, watching the neighbourhood kids play on the street. 

He, Harry, would win this. Nobody would know, but that didn’t matter. Dudley was terrible at flying. He was terrible under pressure and he could never commit to anything. If he was one of the fifty contestants, then Harry had already bested one.

~*~*~

They had twenty minutes. The Dursleys had just left for the race. Harry had to show that he had no interest in the event and had busied himself with cleaning the fireplace for them to see. Clearly, in the Dursleys’ eyes, a soot covered boy would never wander anywhere near where they were.

The moment the sound of their disapparation echoed through the house, Hermione rushed over. She helped transfigure his clothes to something that wasn’t as old or patched or frayed. There were a little more fitting and she’d changed the color to black. The more discretion there was the better. Harry sat still as she started to change the features around his face. At first his skin felt tight, but then relaxed as she kept muttering in Latin.

“Hold still.” She muttered as she dyed his hair a light brown. The eyes were turned to a dark blue and they debated if the glasses would be a hinderance till Hermione decided that he should wear it. Too much magic could tip them off. Security might think that he was breaking rules if he set off the anti-cheating charms.

“Beard?” She asked.

Harry stared. “Does it look like I can pull one off?”

“Hmm. Maybe just a bit of hair… as though you’d forgotten to shave.”

His heart hammered in his chest as he started to pack in his small bag of necessities. No cloak, that would only slow him down. But the gloves and goggles were a must and he couldn’t exactly shove them into his pockets.

“Do you want to look in the mirror?” Hermione asked. Her voice was small and it scared Harry. He took a deep breath and walked past her into the bathroom.

Harry found his reflection a little unnerving. He looked quite different, of course, but nothing spectacular. It was a face that wouldn’t stand out. A forgettable character. 

“It’s perfect, Hermione.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. You’re brilliant at magic.” He told her fervently. Her answering grin made his day.

They took the Knight Bus to the event. It was so crowded that they didn’t get a place to sit and they kept falling over. Harry had to swing the broom out of the way several times to avoid clobbering anyone.

Hermione put up her hood when they reached the destination. There was an absolute crowd at the entrance. Guards were driven nuts to hold the people and screen them into the stadium one by one. Harry walked towards the registration desk, where the sign had been changed to, ‘Participants.’

“Will they let you wait with me?” Harry asked, looking at all the other flyers. Some stood nervously, others were confident, many fidgeted with their brooms and outfits, looking out of place. It looked like there were more than fifty.

“Not sure.” She answered and looked around. “I think so. The Dursleys are over there.”

Harry saw where she was pointing. Dudley stood near the start of the line with his parents proudly flanking him, daring anyone to even look at them, let alone cut them.

He felt a little insecure when he saw the shiny new Firebolt, clasped in Dudley’s hand. Many were openly gawking at the fantastic broom, dejectedly moaning at their own.

“Look at that.” Hermione muttered. “Dudley’s whole gang seems to be participating. You can fly circles around them any day, Harry.”

“Yeah.” He said noting the presence of Diddy’s little group of friends. He sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… yet.”

“No, don’t be pessimistic.” She whispered. “You need to believe in yourself. Harry, come on. You’ve been flying for years. Dudley never flew unless it was flying classes and even those he bunked half the time.”

Harry grimaced. He’d happily forgotten that Hermione and Dudley attended the same school. Thankfully, they were in different houses.

“Right.” He said. “I know that. It’s just… I’m dead if I get caught.”

“You won’t.” She said fiercely and he dropped the subject.

They were admitted into the tent for players and Harry and Hermione stood in the corner, sizing their opponents. The more Harry catalogued them, the more depressed he became.

“Yep.” Harry said. “I’ve got the oldest broom here.”

“And you fly the best.”

“Look at that bloke, Hermione. He should be a wrestler. What’s he doing in this race?”

“His weight will slow him down.”

“And it doesn’t matter if Dudley’s a lousy flyer. With my luck, his Firebolt would do the flying and he’d win.”

“You’ve never seen Dudley fly, have you? I have and it was a disaster. Stop worrying!”

“Holy Merlin, the Weasleys are here. I’m screwed.”

“Now you’re just exaggera – oh my goodness, that’s Ginny Weasley!” Hermione whisper yelled.

They watched the large red headed family. Harry wanted to cry. He recognized Charlie Weasley from his muscles and the twins. Those three were formidable opponents. Ron Weasley, he guessed, held a broom as well. And the girl who stood next to the four boys had her own Firebolt, the same brand as Dudley. She was fiery and strong and with one look, Harry knew that if anyone would win this race, it would be her.

He shouldn’t even have bothered coming.

“Ignore them.” Hermione said. Her face looked pink. “Just focus on your abilities and your strengths. Be careful and stay on the track. You may not have had professional training, or played Quidditch, or flown with other people –”

“I love your motivational speeches.”

“ – but you’re excellent at what you do. And this is what you do, Harry.” She said as earnestly as she could. “You fly.”  
Harry wished her words could have had the desired effect. It left him scared and his knees shook a little. But he gripped the Cleansweep tightly and steeled himself. He did like flying. Loved it, in fact. So what if they were professionals and experts at the sport? 

He was screwed.

~*~*~

“I’ve missed this.” Charlie said significantly. Ginny found him peeking out of the tent to have a look at the spectators being seated. The track was under an Obscuring Charm which would be removed after the racers took their positions.

“How does it look?” She asked.

“Decent. This is good. We should do this once in a while.” Her brother answered, grinning at her. Ginny exhaled roughly, feeling her nerves act up. The adrenaline rush had started trickling in. She felt like hopping on the spot. There was a lot of pent up energy and all she wanted to do was take off into the sky.

“You know… when I told you guys that I would be taking part in the race, I didn’t think you’d join me.” She said.

The twins shot her smirks. Fred leaned forwards and winked. “Sweet, darling sister! How could we not? Having received your invitation –”

“I hadn’t invited you to participate!”

“Yeah. She was gloating.” Ron snorted and dodged a punch from her. Ginny huffed. She wasn’t mad at them, of course. It was a way to get rid of some steam.

“Gloating, shmoating.” George said. “We’ll see on who’ll have the last laugh, sis. Because once we’re on that track, it’s every Weasley for themselves.”

She smirked and batted her eyelashes. “See you at the finishing line, brother.”

A few minutes later, the commentator’s voice hit the stadium. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! It’s a brilliant day to be alive and witness the 46th annual Express race! If you could all take your seats, we’ll begin in just a moment!”

The crowd yelled their enthusiasm and Ginny took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline energize rather than cripple her. Her parents waved at her and her brothers from the side of the tent. The participants were soon left alone in their line as the others were taken back up to the stadium. 

A young girl, carrying a stack of stickers ran up to the front of the line and started to hand them out to each flier. Ginny got the number ‘6’ which she pasted on her sleeve. Her shirt transformed and the same number glistened from her front and back in a large font.

The curtains in front of them were opened in a flourish and they heard the commentator’s voice again. “Here are your grand participants for the game! Put your hands together for our phenomenal fifty fliers!”

Ginny climbed on her broom as did everyone else and followed the person in front of her, into the grounds. The sun shone brightly on them and she adjusted her goggles to eliminate the glare.

The crowd kept screaming like it was a final game for the Quidditch World Cup. Ginny hadn’t realised how popular the race was.

She took her place, hovering above the spot on the ground that had been marked with her number. The other contestants did the same and she realised that they formed a circle, surrounding a great dense fog in the middle of the ground.

“Participants!” The commentator announced. “You have now assembled for round 1! In front of you lies…”

There was grand music as the fog dissipated and Ginny’s jaw dropped. In front of them, stood a large and tall hill. Its peak was higher than the stands and Ginny had to crane her neck to observe it. The crowd gasped, not having expected the sight.

“Consider it a Niffler hill!” The person with the mike, guffawed, clearly enjoying himself. “What you need to find is not gold, but a way out of the mound. Each participant will have an opening in front of him or her. At the sound of the cannon, you are to entire your designated spaces, and travel through the maze within the hill. The first thirty participants to exit from the top of the mound will advance into the next round!”

The crowd burst into applause. Ginny laughed, looking around her for a familiar face. Ron was closest but he stood a few places away from her. She couldn’t see Charlie or the twins.

It didn’t matter. They’d said their ‘good lucks’ to each other. She looked on right ahead as the hill gave a great groan. The part in front of her slowly crumbled away, leaving behind a perfect circle for her to travel through. The mound had to be at least a hundred feet in height. Anyone with claustrophobia would not make it through easily. 

“On your mark!” 

The crowd roared. Ginny gripped the end of her broom tightly focusing on her space.

“Get set!”

The noises dimmed out. She leaned forwards. Her broom vibrated with anticipation. 

The cannon exploded and Ginny zipped forwards, entering the burrow. The tunnel system within the mound was illuminated and there was enough space for two fliers to move side by side. She could hear echoes of others travelling within their own spaces. 

The best thing to do was to move up. But her path seemed to move further downwards. It steeped down till there was a fork and she took the path that led up, albeit slanted to the right.

And then there came the problem. She suddenly felt weightless. Her speed diminished without her command and Ginny almost panicked when she realised that she couldn’t tell which was up or down.

Against her wish, she slowed down to a stop. Strands of her hair drifted around her head. There was no gravity. She knew that if she let go of her broom, she’d be floating aimlessly.

Ginny tried to think back to the rules of the game. Cheating constituted of attacking other participants, use of prescribed or non-prescribed drugs not authenticated by the authority and using magic to undermine anyone else’s performance.

She was sure that was it. Ginny took out her wand and muttered, “Point up.”

Up was a solid, defined concept of where the sky was. The wand pointed somewhere to her left and Ginny continued through the tunnel, slower than usual. She was worried that she wouldn’t even make it to the second round. As a well-known upcoming Quidditch player, people would expect her to win or at the very least, perform admirably in the third round. 

She found an intersection which lead to five other paths heading into different directions. Her wand told her to take the second tunnel and she flew into it. She could feel it. It was the right decision. She felt heavier, gravity seemed to take over. With the weight came the speed and Ginny sped further into the tunnel.

There was a dark figure in her path and she swerved to avoid it, wondering if it was an obstacle. Her wand was at the ready, but she didn’t dare turn back.

Before Ginny could speed up again, she felt him rather than saw him. Another participant, flying fast, trying to overtake her. She frowned, accelerating. Suddenly the tunnel curved steeply, turning up and Ginny thought she saw a pin sized brightness in the distance. She couldn’t believe it! That had to be the exit.

She leaned flat on her broom when there was a sudden drag on her tail. Her Firebolt lurched, slowing down again. Ginny looked down and saw the flier holding on to the twigs of her broom.

“Hey!” She yelled. “That’s chea –”

With a gasp, she found herself slammed to the side, against the earthy interior of the tunnel. The person flew past her and she saw nothing remarkable except for a pale face, leering at her.

Her shoulder ached from the impact but she put on great force, flying on his tail. Though the tunnel was wide enough, he wasn’t giving her any leeway to gain the lead. His robe flapped ridiculously, reminding her of the Potions professor back at Hogwarts. 

The brightness at the end grew bigger till it was the size of a coin. She could hear the sounds of other participants, joining her tunnel, probably the central one. Putting on a burst of speed, Ginny flew past the cheater, dodging his elbow that had been thrown out in an attempt to catch her again. But he missed and she put distance between them as quickly as possible.

The exit was in sight and she could see the sky and the clouds. The roar of the crowd reached her ears and she flew up and out of the hole, light searing her eyes.

“Number Six, everyone. Ginny Weasley is our third contestant to make it to the next round!”

She shook her head, blinking as her goggles got rid of the extra light within seconds. She looked down and saw the huge hill below her. There were others on their way and she flew out of the range, gliding down safely to the tent.

Her feet touch the ground and she shook, leaning against her broom. She clutched her shoulder, feeling the soreness and started to take out the shoulder pad that had protected her from actually breaking bone.

There were people landing next to her, but Ginny stumbled back into the shade of the tent, finding a chair to sit in. Someone rushed up to her.

“Ms. Weasley, how are you feeling? Any dizziness?”

“My shoulder.” She said, wrenching open her eyes to look at the man who held up a Healer’s kit. He frowned as she removed the pad and poked at her shoulder.

“It feels swollen. How hard did you hit it?”

“I didn’t hit anything!” She argued. “Some wanker, grabbed my broom and swung it to the side!”

The Healer looked shocked. “Urggh! These games! I’ll never understand the excitement!”

“I’ll report him.”

“You can try. I don’t think it qualifies as breach of rules, though.”

“But…” Ginny faltered. “It was a deliberate attempt to –”

“If you can prove that this person used magic to foil your game, then it’s term as cheating. Otherwise it’s acceptable. The race can get as rough as Quidditch.” The Healer pressed a vial of potion into her hand. “Drink that to get the swelling down. If it still hurts in the evening, you’ll need to get someone to have a look at it.”

Ginny glared at everyone who entered the tent after that. When Fred found her, she had managed to calm down somewhat.

“Third place, not bad, Ginniekins.” He grinned at her.

“What about you?”

“Twenty six. A bunch of us collided at an intersection. And then there was this thing with gravity and I nearly lost my broom. Took me ages to get out.”

“Who came fourth?” She asked immediately.

“Um… not sure. It’s put up on the board though.”

She got up, not feeling her shoulder twinge anymore. There were still participants flying out of the hill but the gigantic board that featured all the names highlighted her as the third. Ginny stared at the name below hers. ‘Stevens, Jamie.’

Stevens was going down in the second round, Ginny swore.

~*~*~


	3. Dodge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round 2

“Fourth place!” Hermione squealed, throwing her arms around Harry. He grinned and swung her till his neck ached.

“I know! I couldn’t believe it! I thought I was last!”

“See, I told you you’d be great!” They were jumping like little kids, laughing. Harry felt like he’d had an entire cauldron of Euphoria potion. 

“Next round’s in the evening.” Hermione told him, still smiling. “Let’s go.”

“What?” Harry laughed. “There’s free lunch, Hermione! Come on.”

“That’s for participants only. We can have lunch elsewhere.”

“Oh, okay. But I don’t have –”

“I’ll pay.”

Harry looked at her oddly. She seemed to be in a great hurry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just hungry. And really excited. I want to know what happened in the hill.”

She pulled on his arm and Harry saw a bit of urgency in her expression. “Hermione, stop. What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip. Harry waited till she looked around to check for eavesdroppers. Then she whispered. “Dudley came in second.”

Harry stared. “What!”

“Harry –” Hermione called him but he was already running towards the display board that showcased the thirty names scheduled for the second task. ‘Sara Wu’ had taken first place and below her name was ‘Dudley Dursley’. Harry couldn’t believe it. The oaf had beaten Ginny Weasley of all people!

“That’s not possible. How come…”

“I know. Let’s get lunch. We’ll talk.” Hermione said, pulling him.

They didn’t go to the Leaky Cauldron which would have been the first place anyone else would have tried for. Instead they took a table at a small sit out restaurant at the entrance of Knockturn Alley. It was not a very clean place and the bar smelled but the food was tolerable and they needed a quiet place.

“It wasn’t a test of how fast you are. It was how smart you could be to figure a way out and then execute it.” Hermione summarised after Harry explained what had happened.

“Dudley’s neither smart nor an executing bloke.” Harry said, stabbing at his meal. “So, how in the name of Merlin’s saggy right –”

“May be it was luck?” Hermione interrupted him. “May be he found a way out of the gravity situation at first go. May be he never got caught in it.”

He grunted, chewing without registering the taste.

“But Harry, don’t you see? Odds are he won’t be as lucky the second time round.” Hermione said, trying to cheer him up. “There’s no way he can get into the third round.”

“Is there a way he could be... receiving aid?” Harry asked. “Could someone have helped him get out of there?”

Hermione looked worried. “If another participant’s helped him, that wouldn’t actually be breaking the rules.”

Harry looked up hopefully. “Sara Wu went to Hogwarts right? Did Dudley know her?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, suddenly looking amused. “Sara was three years older and in Hufflepuff. I don’t think they knew the other existed.”

“But still – ” Harry dropped his fork and ducked under the table so fast Hermione simply froze. He crouched, bending his knees uncomfortably, praying that she hadn’t spotted him.

“Harry!” Hermione whispered.

“Shh.” He said as quietly as possible. From his view point he could see her legs.

“Why are you hiding from the Ginny Weasley?” Hermione asked, pretending to eat, while eyeing her slyly.

“I’m supposed to be in disguise!” Harry hissed. Though he could not see her, he had a feeling that Hermione had rolled her eyes again.

“Nobody knows who you are, Harry. Even if the Dursleys were here, they wouldn’t recognize you. Now sit up!”

Harry grumbled. Then he pushed himself off the floor, trying to look casual. Ginny Weasley was looking around the place. It was quite startling to see the young red head in such a derelict pub, but there she was.

Suddenly, she caught his eye and made her way towards him.

Harry started to panic. Why was she here? It wasn’t like the place had really good food, just cheap prices. She was walking towards him. Did she see through the glamor? Could she see his real face? Did she even know who Harry Potter was?

“Are you Jamie Stevens?” Weasley asked when she stood in front of their table. Harry and Hermione looked at each other before he replied, “Yes.”

“Right.” She said, her eyes looking quite severe. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

“Er… what?”

“You better watch your back in the next round.” She said, fashioning her voice into a threat. “I’m giving you a warning. So, you have a chance to turn this thing around, got me?”

Harry stared. “What?”

“Are you that thick?” Ginny demanded.

“Hey!” Hermione said, finally having had enough. “Lay off him!”

“This doesn’t concern you!”

“If you threaten my friend, it concerns me!”

“If your friend resorts to cheap tactics again, he’ll be answering to me.” Weasley snapped. She glared at an astonished Harry. “I can’t report you, but don’t take it lightly.”

“What did I do?” Harry exclaimed. He had never even interacted with Ginny Weasley. He had no clue what she was going on about.

“Is that how we’re going to play?”

“Ginny!” Another voice interjected. This one belonged to a bloke, more than a head taller than her. He too had the trademark freckles and red hair. He was frowning at Harry but when he looked at Hermione, his eyes lit up.

“Oh, hi!”

“Hello.” Hermione said, voice slightly meek.

“You know each other.” Ginny sounded reserved.

“Yeah, she’d my year-mate. Ravenclaw, right?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. I’m Ron Weasley.”

“I know who you are.” Hermione said, her face strangely flushed. “My name is Hermione Granger.”

“I know.” Ron replied, grinning at her. She beamed at the acknowledgement and Harry felt like a voyeur.

Ron turned towards his sister. “Mum’s calling.”

“I’ll be along in a sec.” She replied, still glaring at Harry. She leaned in, eyes narrowing further and Harry stared.

“Clean up your act.” She hissed. Then she turned and left the pub without looking back. Ron frowned at Harry. 

“What’s wrong?”

“A misunderstanding.” Hermione said immediately. “You can tell Ginny that Ha – Jamie hasn’t done anything strange.”

Ron nodded. He nodded at Harry, who hoped that he wouldn’t have to introduce himself. Luckily, the door to the pub opened and another Weasley brother walked in. “Ron! Let’s go!”

“Right!”

He bid Hermione good bye and left. Harry let out a breath of relief.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked him, curiously. “Why was she acting like that?”

“Caught me.” Harry muttered. “I’ve never even met her, let alone pissed her off. I don’t know what she thought I’d done.”

Hermione looked worried, but nodded. “Alright. But tread carefully, Harry. You can’t mess around with them.”

“I’m not messing around anyone!”

“Shhh! Just, be careful. She thinks you did something. It probably is a misunderstanding. You can explain when you see her again.”

Harry nodded. Whatever she had been accusing him off, he couldn’t afford to get kicked off. He tried to think back trying to recall any conversation or encounter they might have had, but couldn’t remember.

~*~*~

At two in the afternoon, Harry felt his body shake with excitement and anxiety. He was assembled in the tent along with twenty nine others, waiting for the announcement to let them out. Ginny Weasley stood with her brother, one of the twins. Harry didn’t know his name, but they were both staring at him in intervals, frowning. 

He looked away and spotted Dudley, preening and holding up his broomstick for everyone to admire. No matter that a few others had the same model. Sara Wu stood facing the canvas, pale but determined. She must have been nearly twenty and had already been slated for winning predictions.

Soon, the speakers gave a burst of sound before the voice of the commentator filled the stadium and tent. “A bright afternoon, ain’t it, witches and wizards!”

The crowd screamed and Harry shuddered.

The flaps of the tent opened and Harry walked outside with the rest of the competitors. This time, the ground seemed to be enlarged because it looked bigger than it had been in the morning. It resembled a race track but there was a dense fog covering most of it, shielding whatever surprises were in store.

“Take your positions, contestants!” The man said. Harry stood over the ground marked number twenty. He looked up at the crowd, trying to search for Hermione before shaking his head and focusing on the Obscuring charm in front of him. He couldn’t be distracted.

“At the sound of the cannon, contestants start the race. You’re designated to stick to your tracks unless you’d like to collide with each other. Your aim is to avoid all the obstacles and reach the finish line, that is, where you begin. The first fifteen to cross the line will advance to the last and final round!”

The crowd roared once the announcement was done and Harry held his broom tighter.

“On your mark!” He clambered on his broom, a little clumsily. He couldn’t afford mistakes or even misunderstandings.

“Get set!” Harry gripped the end of the broom tightly. Everyone in his peripheral vision did the same. He inhaled. The fog disappeared and the obstacle course was revealed in its entirety. It resembled a gauntlet where bludgers were seen waiting impatiently from their corners.

The cannon let out a terrific shot and Harry exhaled, leaning forward and flying, not as fast as he could have.

It was a good decision because the there was a huge gust of wind, blowing sand into their eyes. Harry’s goggles were covered by the dirt and he immediately smudged them out with his gloves, putting on a burst of speed. He flew over the conjured wind and zipped back down only to come face to face with a sudden flash of bright white light. It hit his eyes, burning his sight and imprinting a negative behind his eyelids. He groaned and slowed down again, only to realise that he was in the wrong track. 

Someone crashed into him from behind and Harry took a tumble, falling off his broom and hitting the ground with a dull thud. 

There was a keening sort of ringing in his ears and he groaned, clutching his head and trying to sit up.

“Urgh!” The second voice said and Harry opened his eyes and came face to face with Ginny Weasley.

“Sorry.” Harry told her.

She stared at him. Then she picked up her broom without another word and flew away, as though she hadn’t crash landed herself.

Harry followed suit. They couldn’t afford to waste time. He avoided the area were the strong blinding light shone and flew back on his track when there was a whistling sound all around him.

Bludgers. Harry kept his eyes peeled and spotted one risky black sphere, looking like it was made out of metal. It headed for Harry, its trajectory marked. Harry flew down and then sideways to avoid another. Once he was in the game, it suddenly felt easy.

He could hear when they were too close to him and nearly all his dodges were successful except for when one of them clipped the tail of his broom. 

The Cleansweep shuddered and Harry gripped the handle tightly, praying. Amazingly, it flew straight and seemed alright.

He didn’t think it was completely fine though. He’d avoided clashes during the first round, but apparently, it wasn’t to be this time. He barely made it out of the bludger zone when someone took over him on his right. 

He looked up and tried not to swear. Dudley was flying, looking like an expert. He had no clue how that was possible after all of Hermione’s speeches on how terrible Dud had been on a broom.

He was done being beaten by Dudley. His entire life, his cousin always had everything, even whatever Harry had wanted, snatching it right under his nose. This time, Harry would not let him.

Harry leaned flat against the broom, feeling it shudder not in the good way. Uh oh.

In front of him, there were far fewer people than he’d expected. He could see Weasley’s bright red hair; she was flying side by side with another, looking like they were wrestling with each other to stay in the inner track.

Harry stared when he saw the third flier, draped in black robes and a smirk appointed on his face. He overtook Dudley and then Harry, finally flying right into the leads. They crashed into each other.

The stadium groaned. Harry tried to avoid the trio, but they slammed into him and Dudley. He flew off his broom and hit the ground, rolling till he came to a stop.

The quartet, still mangled around each other (Harry could see their cloaks caught in each other’s grasps,) hit the ground behind him, a solid thunk. 

Suddenly the track fell quiet. Harry looked around clutching his sore arm; where were the others?

Some were still caught with the bludgers and Harry saw that no one had reached the finish line yet. He stood up, looking around for his broom.

He found it. He found the tail end. Harry’s jaw dropped. The Cleansweep was completely splintered. It was broken in the middle and a bit of the twigs were scattered around the handle.

He could have happily (not really) curled in on himself and started to cry, but he stared and realised that there had been no winner. The others were still stuck.  
In the distance, he saw the black cloaked figure stand up. The guy looked to be about Harry’s age, but he had an expression of success as though it had gone the way he’d wanted. He stood up and started to look for his broom.

Harry flinched. He couldn’t lose. He looked ahead and saw the finish line, just twenty feet away.

Wait… could he?

He had nothing to lose. Harry stood up gingerly and started to hobble towards the line. He couldn’t swing one arm, and his ankle hurt, but he kept moving. He just needed to cross the line. The rules didn’t state that he had to fly over it.

Well, he wasn’t completely sure, but he had nothing to lose.

The stadium was cheering. The announcer was yelling something but it all made some sort of vague noise in his head. Harry limped and saw the black cloaked man fly past him, taking first place. Fine, he just needed to get into the first fifteen.

A few others followed suit and Harry saw the line come closer. He gritted his teeth and walked over it, collapsing into a heap as he crossed it.

He’d just… take a nap…

~*~*~

“Bloody twit!” Ron said angrily, staring down at the scene of the race track. It was a mess. Ginny had been caught in a crash, but she’d been able to pick herself up and made it across the line, taking eleventh place. Ron sat down and groaned. Malfoy ruined everything.

“Cheer up, Ronnie.” George said, frowning at the gloating blond. “Of course Malfoy would try to wreck our chances. Remember, Gin beat him several times at Hogwarts games.”

“I’d like to have a go at him.” Ron mumbled. Charlie slapped him back.

“Me too. Let’s go. Fred didn’t make it.”

Fred had been to slow to get out of the bright light zone and came in a dismal twentieth. He didn’t look too caught up on that, choosing to mutter expletives about Malfoy.

“Wait till I get my hands on that pompous ferret.” He muttered savagely. “He’d better watch himself.”

Ginny sat on the ground in the tent next to him, rubbing at her knee. “He’s the one who tried to push me out of the race in the first round. I thought it was that Stevens.”

George nodded. “I guess Stevens flew past him just like you did. I like the bloke. Did you see what he did?”

Ron grinned. “He walked and crossed the line. Smart arse. It would have been better if he could have beaten Malfoy.”

“Still seventh place isn’t bad. But he needs a Healer, he got banged up. I’m not sure if he could make it to the last round.” Fred sighed.

“You’re kidding, right?” George said incredulously. “Did you see his broom? Malfoy did a number on it. It was in two separate pieces.”

They talked about the race till the commentator, whose name was still extremely forgettable, announced to the crowd, “What a day! As a reminder, the third round is due at six o’clock today. SO, don’t be late! Let’s tally up the names, shall we?”

The stadium gave their agreement and he continued. “In first place is Draco Malfoy! Following him is Giselle Tasmin, Dean Thomas, Sarah Wu,…”

The names continued till they heard “Jamie Stevens” in the seventh position and “Ginny Weasley” in the eleventh.

Ron gave a silent groan, looking around the tent. He spotted Stevens sitting on a chair, with Hermione fussing over him. A Healer was checking his arm for internal damage.

“I’ll go check on him.” He told the others as he made his way to the pair. Ron wasn’t exactly the kind to go make ready friends, but since he already knew Hermione and since Stevens had proven his worth…

“Hey.” Ron nodded towards them.

Hermione looked up. She was clearly worried about her friend but she managed a small smile. “Hey Ron.”

“Hey Stevens, is it as bad as it looks?”

Stevens looked up, his face cringed. His arm was red from the rash of the sand but whatever the Healer was doing, seemed to alleviate the pain.

“No. It just looks –”

“Don’t listen to him.” Hermione said hotly. “He always downplays everything.”

“She’s just henpecking.” Stevens waved his free arm. “And call me Jamie.”

Ron smiled. “Nice. Are you qualified for the third round?”

Hermione gave a long winded sigh. “The judges had a debate. Technically, it’s a flying race. But then, Ludo Bagman said ‘That bairn has the gumption and yer aff yer heid if you don’t qualify him!’”

Ron and Jamie laughed at her pitiful Scottish accent attempt.

“They liked me.” Jamie said after, shrugging like he couldn’t believe it.

Ron snorted. “Everyone liked you. I think we cheered more for you than that git Malfoy. He’s the one who crash into ten others.”

Hermione folded her arms. “I can’t believe anyone would do that, in front of the judges and spectators. Everyone was watching.”

“It wasn’t a breach of the rules.” Ron explained. It didn’t satisfy Hermione though.

The healer kept Jamie’s hand down, carefully. “It’s going to feel numb for a while. Don’t move it much.”

“Can he make the third round?” Ron asked curiously.

The Healer hesitated. “I wouldn’t advise it. But if it goes straightforward, it wouldn’t hurt…”

Jamie looked downtrodden though. “I can’t anyway.”

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Maybe you could get a consolation prize?”

Ron watched them, not liking the scene. If anyone deserved a chance, it was Jamie. He looked back at his siblings who were joking around. Ginny looked rather miserable as well.

“Say, would you like to join us for tea?” Ron said suddenly.

Hermione and Jamie looked up suspiciously. Ron didn’t blame them. Just before the second round, Ginny had been stern with Jamie.

“Just to get to know you. Hermione and I don’t talk too often. She helps a lot with Potions, though. She’s amazing.”

Hermione blushed and Ron grinned again. Jamie smiled. “That she is. Although, I don’t think I can leave the tent for a while.”

“It’s fine. We can get some snacks here.”

Ron wasn’t sure where the good Samaritan views were coming from. Maybe he was feeling bad about the situation. Nevertheless, he called Charlie to join him, the twins and Ginny. They found biscuits and some ready-to-boil tea.

Ginny seemed abashed. It was a strange expression on her face. She was always so vibrant and fierce that Ron stood back to watch the conversation.

“Hello.” She said to Jamie, who simply raised an eyebrow.

“Hello.”

“I… well, I’d like to .. say… that I regret… my behavior in the pub.”

Jamie stared at her, unimpressed. Ron wondered if he was really angry at her because he could see Hermione struggling to not smile.

“Okay.” Was all he said.

Ron shared a grin with Fred. Ginny was not the regretting sort.

“I am… sorry… for assuming… that you were a git.”

George turned his snort into a cough.

“Uhuh?”

“Yes. A cheating, lying git at that.”

Charlie ducked his head, shoulders shaking. Ron pressed his lips together, waiting to see if Jamie had a sense of humor.

He did. Jamie let out a laugh. “Wow, you really can’t apologize, can you?”

Everyone burst out laughing as Ginny’s face turned scarlet. But she too cracked a smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. I’d be mad too if someone crashed into me.”

Ginny laughed. “I guess we’re even.”

They talked for more than an hour. Jamie, as it turned out, went to a private school, and had already graduated. He was shorter than Ron which made the latter think that he had been younger. But the bloke was apparently eighteen and was working at an apothecary outside the suburbs.

Jamie also did not seem to like to share information. He was more interested in Ginny’s life, like the rest of the world. Ron wasn’t as jealous as he’d been before. He had been able to look past her fame and get back to being her proud brother. Besides, he was discovering just how engaging it was to talk to Hermione who always had an opinion on everything.

Charlie’s occupation caught the attention of their new friends. It was amazing at how easy and natural the conversation seemed to go, seamlessly drifting from one topic to another. They could have been friends for years rather than hours.

“It looks better now.” George noted. Jamie’s arm did seem healthier and he moved it around, not wincing as much as before.

“It is.” He seemed almost surprised. 

“So, what are you going to do for your broom?”

“What?” Jamie looked confused. Charlie chortled.

“You need a broom for the third round, Jamie. I doubt they’ll let you run this time.”

“I haven’t got a spare.”

He looked stubbornly critical of himself.

“But you can’t give up!” Ginny exclaimed. “You actually have a good chance of winning! I’d pay money to see you beat Malfoy.”

“I thought you wanted to beat him.”

“Oh, I do. It’ll be more fun if you were there with me.”

Ron smirked when he saw Jamie blush. “Thanks. But I don’t have –”

“No problem.” George shrugged. “You can borrow one of ours.”

Jamie and Hermione sat up in tandem. “Re… really?”

“Sure. You are a superb flier. You could win, you know that, right?”

Jamie opened and closed his mouth, looking speechless. Hermione giggled. “Give him a minute. Would you really lend your broom?”

“I’m already out of the race. It was fun, but seriously, I don’t want Malfoy winning.” George explained, leaning back. Ron looked at Jamie again who was stunned.

Ginny looked happy with the idea, even though it would decrease her chances of winning. She looked smitten by Jamie and that should have bothered Ron, but Hermione was very hopeful as well, so he said, “That’s a good idea. What say, Jamie?”

Jamie blinked rapidly. “Thanks! I mean, would you really?”

“Hmm. No, I was just joking, Stevens.” George said sombrely. Everyone stared at him. Ginny slapped his arm.

“Ow! Alright, yeah, we’re serious!”

“May be we should get a bet going.” Fred suggested, looking over to the entrance of the tent. Everyone turned and saw that Malfoy stood in the sun, already talking to reporters. Ron smiled. He couldn’t wait to see what would happen.


	4. Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round 3

Harry stared at the Nimbus 2005. George’s broom was nearly two years old, but very well maintained. It had a straight handle, felt like sleek mahogany, and its neat rows of twigs gave it superior balance than most brooms had. This model was more about power than speed, but Harry felt extremely confident with it.

Whatever misunderstanding there had been, it seemed to have disapparated when Ginny apologized and the atmosphere had felt less intense almost immediately. Tea had been fun with the Weasleys and even Hermione had been able to sit back and relax for a while. 

Now, Harry stood in the tent along with Ginny who’d made it into the final fifteen. She was quiet, braiding her hair expertly. The long straight strands shone in the dim light of the tent. He stared at it for an inappropriate ten seconds before looking away. 

The sun had nearly set, casting the sky with red shadows. He could see that the stadium had been lit up with evening lights. People were filling up the stands again. It had been a long day, but everyone was excited.

“How’s your arm?” Ginny asked. Harry looked at her.

“Much better. What about you?”

“I didn’t get hit much. I fell on somebody.”

Harry frowned, looking to his far right. “Do you think he’ll try something else now?” He asked, nodding at Malfoy.

Ginny followed his gaze. “Definitely. It won’t be subtle and it won’t be cheating. The only reason I haven’t hexed him yet is because I’d get disqualified.”

Harry grinned. “I’d pay to see that.”

She tilted her head up at him. “You’d pay to see me disqualified?”

“No! I meant you hexing Malfoy. I’d pay to see that.”

Ginny laughed. “Nice save.”

“No really.”

“Sure.”

They joked around for a while till the announcement began. The spectators gave a loud cheer when what’s-his-name, Bagman, walked up to the stands. Even from a distance, it felt like he was trying to project his enthusiasm onto everyone.

“It’s a bright day to begin the play, I say!”

“Oi vey.” Ginny murmured. Harry snorted.

“Summer is still with us, I see! It’s six on the dot and there’s still some sun light. Look at that sky!”

“Get on with it!” Somebody in the tent yelled. Bagman couldn’t hear it and continued anyway.

“Our fifteen finalists will now gather onto the ground, give them a big hand!”

The crowd cheered and the tent gave for them to assemble where their numbers had been painted on the ground. Harry stood on number twenty but there were only four people between him and Ginny. She gave him a thumbs up and he grinned. He was just glad that Dudley hadn’t been able to make it to the third round. He didn’t recognize many of the others except for a few renowned Quidditch players, Ginny and Malfoy.

Harry focused on the ground in front of him. It had the same dense fog as before but it suddenly cleared and they were staring at a race track.

Finally, Harry thought. He’d been ready for an obstacle free race since the beginning.

“The rules for this round are far simpler!” Bagman said. “Complete five laps. The moment the first finalist finishes their fifth lap, the Golden Snitch is released. Once the snitch is caught, the race is over and we will have a winner!”

Harry exhaled. Simple race, catch the snitch. Easy peasy.

“Remember, only contestants who have finished five laps are allowed to catch the snitch. You must fill up your quota before chasing the golden beauty. She’s a brand new Snapdragon Snitch. She’ll bite you if you haven’t finished the laps!”

The crowd laughed and clapped.

“On the sound of the cann –”

The cannon jerked and gave out an explosion. Everyone except for one man froze. Harry saw someone take off on the track. Malfoy, he thought, immediately climbing on his broom.

“Bloo-” Bagman hadn’t even gotten out the word when the others did the same and the race began.

The crowd’s screams hit his ears but Harry ignored it all, already realizing how far behind most of them were. He might actually get his chance to see Ginny hex Malfoy when it was all over.

Harry had barely covered half the track when Malfoy finished the first lap. His pick-up had been excellent going from zero to fifty, it seemed. Harry cursed and urged the broom to go faster. The Nimbus complied, excited to be back on the field again.

He could hear the commentary, the cheering and the wind whistling past his ears. His goggles felt fogged up again but it was his own breathing that seemed to cripple him. He was ahead of many of the others but could feel the drag of the broom. George had explained that turns weren’t easy on this particular Nimbus and Harry had to push his weight back to steady the flight. He wasn’t used to it but had to make do.

Harry finished the first lap, with no pleasure and kept going, keeping the turns from going too steep. It wasn’t easy.

Ginny passed him on his left. He’d rather lose to her than Malfoy, but didn’t want to lose at all. It proved to be a hazard to try and catch up to her, but he managed it somehow. Harry could now hear the others flying close behind.

They were gaining up on Malfoy when a gust of wind hit the ground, sending up a mini sandstorm. Harry did the same as before, rubbing his goggles, but he couldn’t unstick the dirt. His sight was completely blocked and in desperation, he ripped the goggles off, dropping them on the track. His glasses were a bare help, but he could still see through the dust. It was worse than the second round when it had lasted for a shorter amount of time.

Harry raised his head, keeping his mouth shut and noted that Malfoy was well ahead of the storm. Harry called him several unfavorable names, during which he crossed a few more laps. One to go.

The sandstorm died, thankfully. While, Harry shook his hair to get rid of the excess dust, two others flew past him. Nope, not today, Harry thought and put on a burst of speed with a vengeance. He flew over them, drawing on the power of the Nimbus. It brought him close to the stadium and the spectators. He saw several streamers and heard the hoots of the crowd. It made him smile briefly.

He had to focus. Harry looked down and spotted a pale blond head of hair at the lead of the race. Harry angled his broom down and simply dropped at a steep incline.

He heard gasps and screams. Harry grinned. He could imagine Hermione shielding her eyes in shock. 

Just as Malfoy crossed the final lap, a loud whistle burst through the stadium. From the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of gold. The snitch had been released from the center of the field. Harry turned the broom, expecting the drag this time. He flew over the line, finishing his fifth lap before anyone else could.

The snitch was fast. Harry could see it zip around the field. Malfoy couldn’t control his broom fast enough for the tiny golden sphere. Harry swore he could see its silver wings twitch before changing directions. Adrenaline wound him up and Harry did a barrel roll, sped beside Malfoy and went after the snitch in a fashion that he could almost hear Hermione shriek.

He was side by side with the blond, so Harry caught the sneer that Malfoy sent him. He winked at him, but before he could do anything else, a red blur whizzed past both boys.  
Ginny had somehow gained momentum. If Harry had ever underestimated her (not that he did) it was a good time to eat his words. She was almost as adept at chasing the snitch. The crowd gave ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as she dived after it.

The others were catching up to them. Harry turned and flew up again, bring the handle close to his face. Then, he twisted midair, caught the sight of the snitch and darted after it, using momentum and gravity to gain speed.

The snitch escaped Ginny’s outstretched fingers and flew right into Harry’s path.

There was a sharp whistle again but Harry knew what it signaled. The snitch struggled against his fingers but he immediately closed a fist around out. Harry pulled out from the dive, gasping at what had happened.

He’d just caught it. He’d won.

The stadium exploded. Harry was still staring at the snitch which finally closed its wings and shuddered into a motionless sleep. He landed on the ground, still star struck at what he’d done.

“Jamie!” Someone yelled. Harry recognized the voice and turned around with a grin. Ginny was running towards him. She didn’t look angry or depressed at losing, but inside had a hard blazing look about her. 

Any other time, any other place, Harry thought he’d have kissed her. But as she threw her arms around him, he simply hugged her back with so much fervor that he lifted her off the ground. 

“That was amazing!” She screamed, pulling back to look at him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Victor Krum do such a perfect Wronski Feint!”

“Thanks!” He couldn’t stop grinning. He set her back down and she leaned up to adjust his glasses.

“Here. They were tilt –” Ginny froze.

“What?” Harry asked. He could see a crowd making their way from the stadium. The judges were leading the group and Ludo Bagman was also there, managing to avoid being swallowed by the others. 

“Congratulations, Jamie Stevens!” One of the judges said, shaking his hand. Harry accepted the Moleskin pouch. He heard the jingle of the coins within and his heart swelled. Ginny was still standing beside him, frowning.

She said something. It was lost in the crowd’s yelling. Harry ducked his head to hear her, but still couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. He caught the word “eye.”

Then Hermione emerged from the crowd. Her grin dissolved and she looked horrified. Harry couldn’t understand. No one else seemed shocked. Hermione elbowed her way through and grabbed Harry’s arm.

“You hair! It’s turning black!”

Harry’s eyes widened. He grabbed at his hair as though it would feel different.

Hermione tried to pull him away from the crowd but it wasn’t easy. Several people were trying to shake his hand. Ginny was still staring at them. Harry’s heart fell.

“You need to get out of here!” Hermione yelled into his ear. She dug into her pocket for her wand, pointed it at the ground.

A burst of wind hit the track and suddenly, everyone was enveloped into a hail of dust. Harry shut his eyes and pushed through the people struggling to get away from the conjured storm. He dropped the snitch in the process, but couldn’t afford to look for it. He’d won the race. He got the gold. He needed to get out before people realized that Jamie Stevens wasn’t real.

His glasses offered some sort of protection. He opened his eyes by a millimeter, spotted the exit and bolted.

~*~

Dudley and Piers were in the crowd when the sand hit them. They hadn’t been able to see the winner, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t see anything. Dudley covered his face with his robes, coughing to get away from the crowd. When the dust cleared, he rubbed his eyes, blinking them open.

“What the bloomin’ hell?!” Piers swore looking around. Everyone was confused, seeming to be searching for something. Dudley saw the red haired girl, the celebrity Weasley who’d signed on the Harpies team for a tour. He saw her reach down and pick up something gold.

“Is that Stevens? Where’s he off to?” Piers grumbled, slapping the sand off his clothes. Dudley looked to where Piers spotted him and saw Stevens rushing for the exit. Just before he was out of sight, Dudley thought the bloke’s hair looked very messy and very familiar, sticking up in ways Dudley had ever seen on one particular person. But that was not possible…

~*~*~


	5. Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sooooo late. I wish it wasn't, but I'm too busy.

Harry hid in the girls’ latrine for nearly twenty minutes. He could hear the commotion outside. People were discussing about the race and the missing winner. Some called “Foul!” and others shushed them. Harry looked back down at the leather bag in his arms. It weighed a hefty sum.

He couldn’t feel his facial features shifting back to his original form, but they must have. That’s what Ginny had seen. She’d seen the most delicate and complex part revert to its original state – the eyes. He hoped she hadn’t guessed too much at it. For all she knew, Harry had reflective eyes, changing colors like a Metamorphmagus.

Harry slipped the bag deep into an inside pocket. Feeling it bulge there, Harry zipped up his jacket, making sure it wouldn’t slip out.

He still held on to George’s broom. Harry had no idea how long he could wait there. After a while, he took out his wand and cast a disillusionment charm on himself. Catching no sound in the loo, he stepped out carefully. The air seemed to move around him, light bending due to the charm. He was by no means as skilled as Hermione, but he was good at hiding.

Harry sneaked into the tent. He could see people still lingering. The Weasleys were in a corner, but he couldn’t just walk up to them. Harry couldn’t even write a note. He cursed and tiptoed, keeping a firm arm on the broom for the charm to cover it as well.

Thankfully, nobody looked his way. Harry placed the broom on a table, behind the chairs and removed his grip from it. The broom flickered into existence but no one seemed to notice. 

He thanked the power that be and left the tent. By the time he reached home, it was dark. The sun had set and the street lights were out, glaring harshly. Harry looked around, removed the charm and crept around the back of the house. There was no way he could enter the house without someone inside noticing.

Harry pulled out the pouch of gold, headed into the garden and used his hands to sift through the newly dug sapling sprouts. He knew he would have to hide it somewhere safe enough where the Dursleys would not dare to look.

He pushed the bag into the earth and piled more dirt over it, patting the ground till it felt firm. Then he dusted himself off and entered the kitchen.

Luckily, neither his aunt, nor his uncle, was present. The house seemed quiet but the lights were on. Harry tried to act normally, ensuring that his goggles and gloves were tucked in out of sight. Harry walked like he had no secret and nearly reached the stairs when Dudley seemingly appeared out of nowhere, blocking his path.

“Gah! Dud, hey there.”

“Where were you?” Dudley’s small eyes were unusually sharp. Maybe it was the lamp’s light.

“Working.” Harry said shortly, trying to move past him, but was stopped rudely. Dudley shoved him back into the hallway.

“Try again.”

Harry stared. He could feel himself sweating but did not break tone. “Excuse me?”

“You were at the race.”

“What race?”

“Come off it!” Dudley snapped. “The Annual State Flying Race! I saw you!”

“The Flying Race?” Harry forced a chuckle. “I was nowhere near that thing.”

“You’re lying.” Dudley said, glaring at him. “I saw you! I saw your hair!”

“My hair!” Of all the things… Harry held back a laugh that was threatening to explode out of him.

“You little turd. Wait till I tell mum and dad!”

“Tell them what?” Harry put as much scorn as he could in his voice. “That I was wasting time watching a race? Unlike some people, Dudley, I have to work!”

“You were in the race!” He stressed, towering over him. Harry held his ground, staring right back. “You won the race! You got the gold!”

“Are you skagged?!” Harry said, side stepping him but Dudley took out his wand and yelled, “Accio gold!”

Harry felt like the world tilted.

There was a loud thump from upstairs and the boys looked up to see Petunia’s jewelery and money box hurtling towards them. They ducked to avoid it and it bounced off of the wall where Dudley’s head had been.

“Not that!” Dudley hissed, furious with himself. “Accio Flying Race prize!”

Nothing happened. Harry tried to look confused and irritated. “You really think I was in the race, flying? Dudley, you were the one who made sure that I couldn’t learn how to fly! What makes you think I won that stupid thing?”

“It’s not stupid! You were there, I saw you!” Dudley’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll prove it. You better watch your back, Potter, I’ll get you one way or another.”

Harry shook his head like he was fed up. Dudley let him leave, thankfully and he walked up the stairs, keeping a steady pace of it. The moment he closed the door of his room, he locked it and let out a sigh of relief.

The Summoning charm hadn’t worked for some reason. He was grateful for it, but couldn’t take any risks. He’d have to wait till midnight when the Dursleys were asleep to get the galleons out, add them up with his small stash and give them to Vernon before the deadline, next week.

There was a knock at the window. A large tawny brown owl sat at the ridge, looking quite irritated. 

Hermione, Harry thought, hurrying up to unlock the latch and let her owl in. Sappho flew in, perched herself on Harry’s table and stretched out her leg for the letter. Harry caught Hermione’s neat writing on the envelope as he untied it.

_Harry,_  
Dad says to come to work early tomorrow. He needs to explain a few new herbs that we’ll be receiving. And bring the book you borrowed last month, Ella Cinder on ‘Complex Human Transfiguration’. I have an assignment on it.  
Hermione. 

The Dursleys would sometimes screen Harry’s mail. Hermione could never write personal or long messages to him. He wouldn’t let her. Harry didn’t want the Dursleys to ban him from working at the clinic or meeting her.

Healer Granger opened the clinic at nine regularly and most of Harry’s work didn’t usually involve early morning coaching. Harry grabbed his quill and inkwell, scrawling out a response.

_Hermione,_  
I’ll be there by seven. And I’ll bring the book.  
Harry. 

He sent Sappho with the letter and changed out of his clothes, falling into bed without having had supper. 

~*~

“I couldn’t think of anything else.” Hermione said dolefully, as Harry ripped into his breakfast. His stomach had been growling since he woke up and he had to skip breakfast at the house to make to her place the next morning.

“Are you kidding, ‘Mione? It was brilliant. You’re a lifesaver.” Harry said between bites.

“Still. I was lucky they didn’t catch me.” Hermione shook her head. “The sand bursting was easy but everyone started looking for you afterwards. Where did you hide? Did you catch the Knight Bus?”

“No.” Harry’s face went red. “I was in the bathroom.”

She nodded slowly. “Huh. That’s usually a place they would search. May be you were lucky.”

“Yeah. May be. I cast a Disillusionment charm on myself!”

“Really?” Hermione looked proud. “And you doubted yourself. I knew you could do it!”

Harry shrugged at the praise feeling far better than yesterday night. “I gave the broom back. At least, I hope George found it. It was on the table.”

“He did.” Hermione assured him. “Ron asked me where you’d gone. I gave him an excuse, but he didn’t seem all that mad or anything. He said he was just glad that Malfoy hadn’t won.”

Harry let out a groan. “Urgh, don’t talk to me about him. Do you think he rigged the cannon?”

She glared and nodded. “Probably. He got away with it too. I couldn’t believe the nerve. Everyone said that it wasn’t cheating because it wasn’t a direct magical attempt on anyone – … sometimes, I think we rely too much on magic!”

Harry whistled. “That’s a new one. Anyway, thanks for the food. I was starving.”

“I figured.” She looked sad. “Harry, did you count the money?”

“Not by hand. I had a hundred and seventy seven galleons before the race. Now, with the prize –”

“It’ll be 477 galleons. How much more do you need?”

“Sixteen. The total is 493.”

Hermione exhaled. “They should have some kind of proof, actual solid proof that you are in debt. The system of the children paying for their parents is regressive. It’s termed as bonded labor when slavery is forced on each subsequent generation. Harry, if you use this money to start an enquiry –”

“I’ve seen the papers.” Harry interrupted her. “Uncle Vernon shows it to me once in a while to cheer himself up. There’s a marked interest rate. The more I wait, more I’ll have to pay. And if I don’t pay next week, they’ll arrest me and then sue me.”

She looked furious. “There has to be something we can do.”

Harry looked at her, touched. Whenever she talked of his problems, she tried to come up with solutions where she could help. She never put him on his lonesome.

“Hermione, have I told you that you’re the best friend I’ve ever had?”

She looked surprised and incredibly happy and Harry vowed to always keep contact with her later in life.

“That means a lot coming from you, Harry. You’re the closest friend I’ve had too, in years.”

His grin faded. “I thought you had friends at your school, at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, I do. We don’t share rule breaking secrets with each other, though.” She giggled.

“That’s me.” Harry sighed. “That’s all I’m ever good for. It’s what I was born to do. Be Hermione Granger’s trouble making, rule breaking friend.”

Hermione extended an arm around his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re more than that, Harry. You’re an amazing, hard-working, incredibly smart person. I’ve learnt so much from you.”

“Weren’t you the one who tutored me for months?”

“You taught me a whole new way to look at the world than to rely on books. I’ve been better at making friends at Hogwarts because you helped me speak up and not hide behind books.”

It was the first time they were so honest and open with each other. It didn’t feel too mushy, instead, it was exactly what Harry needed to hear.

He grinned at her. “Thanks, Mione.”

She squeezed him in return. “So… um… how are you going to get the rest of the gold?”

“I’ve asked your dad for a raise.”

She stared at him for a full moment before beaming. “So, that means…”

“It means, ” Harry said sitting up straight and announcing proudly. “… you are looking at one lucky bloke who will have 500 galleons on his seventeenth birthday. I’ll take you out for a seven galleon meal after paying the Dursleys, so I’ll be broke again.”

~*~

_The Winning Mystery_

_Last night’s exhilarating result of the Annual State Flying Race held in London was packed with surprises. As usual, there were three rounds, each compromising of difficult hurdles to cross. The participants have reported favorably on the event as have the spectators but the most memorable moment was when Jamie Stevens (18) caught the snitch after beating several well known flyers such as Ginevra Weasley, Sarah Wu, Cho Chang, Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy. Stevens was an unknown competitor to the crowd but had gained their respect after his wily attempt at successfully cross the finishing line in round one by walking, after his broom had faced irreparable damage.  
His opponents such as Weasley and Wood had nothing but admiration for Stevens having stated that they would like to meet him in person to congratulate him on winning the race. After catching the snitch in the final round, in a bout of confusion, Stevens mysteriously disappeared, having accepted the prize gold. While a few others have argued to foul play by Stevens who seemed to have been in the race for solely the gold, the judges have ruled out the accusations, declaring that Stevens had won fair and square. Ludovic Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, gave a boisterous comment on Stevens possessing exceptional flying skills which any Quidditch team in the world would love to covet._

_If Stevens decides, it seems, he can have his life set. But reports have stated that the winner hasn’t been seen after the game had ceased. He left behind no clue as to his personal or background details. If anyone is aware of a Jamie Stevens with a knack for perfect dive bombs, Bagman urges for them to come forth._

_“Talent like that must be recognized. It will be of glorious benefit to the country of England. I beseech Mr. Stevens to consider the choices. The perfect Quidditch career can truly take him far in life.”_

_As a mesmerized spectator of the event, I feel compelled to add in my thoughts. I’m sure I am not alone in stating that we would love for you, Jamie Stevens, to come forth and announce yourself. It seems like there is a straight forward road of fame and fortune waiting for you._

Ginny shook her head, setting down the paper. Could the article have been any more pretentious? She looked up at her parents who were discussing about her homeschooling. While Ginny had no problem in postponing her school years, her mother had been adamant with continuing her education at all costs.

“Ginny, are you, listening?” Her mother called, impatiently. Ginny slumped into her chair. They were seated at the table in the kitchen. Her parents were taking all this too seriously.

“Is this necessary right now?” Ginny asked again. “Why can’t I wait a few years?”

“Sweetheart, it’s just two more years at Hogwarts and then you can fly to your heart’s content with any team in the world.” Her father told her.

“But that’s just it! In two years, the offers would have reduced –”

“Not if you schedule a contract with them.”

Her mother exhaled roughly. “I don’t like contracts. They restrict so much. Ginny, I think you should wait the two years and then try out again. I’m sure they would be willing to take you up –”

Ginny grimaced. “Mum, two years will change everything! They find new talent and they’ll forget about me!”

“They aren’t likely to forget you, Ginny.” Her father said patiently. “Your first match was one of the quickest ever in the record of National games. The attention to you might reduce, but the teams will still be ready to let you join try-outs.”

“Yes!” Her mother joined in. “Cedric said the same. Your name will be on the consideration lists till you opt to try for them. We’re not telling you to forget the idea of ever wanting to be a professional Quidditch Player. Just think it over, please?”

Ginny looked back at the table, over to the article of Jamie Stevens. There were other reports that said that there had been no identity confirmation which led most to believe that it was someone with a fake name who’d bagged the prize.

He would get first slot in any team in the country, hell, the world. That dive was so perfect…

If she skipped school and tried for the national team and got in, she would be the youngest player in history to make the Britain Quidditch team. She could easily climb to the top, stay there for a minimum of ten years before choosing to branch out. Her career would be her life and it would be a life lived to the fullest.

But she’d miss school. All her friends would move on, pass out of Hogwarts with a full seven year education in their pockets, getting jobs, travelling, doing regular things…

Did she want to do the regular thing? Not everyone got an opportunity like this. A fifteen year old National Player. Then, may be, even international…

It felt so huge that she physically had to close her eyes to remove the doubts from her head. Her parents were good at this sort of manipulating. She wanted to say no and vehemently stick to her decision, but she was starting to have reservations of it. What if she didn’t get selected? By then, it would have a few months into the school year and she’d have to join in with her juniors. She wouldn’t be able to bear with that. What if she did get in, but didn’t get along with her teammates? What if something dangerous should happen? What if she was in an accident? No, she couldn’t think like that. Quidditch was a dangerous game, whether it was at home level or international.

Her mother took her hand. Ginny reluctantly looked up at her.

“Think it over. Just take a few days, a few weeks even, to decide on this. Because once you make your mind, it’s not so easy to change it. I know this is a lot and it concerns your entire life, but that’s why your father and I want to consider this very carefully. The game will always be there. The officials will understand. They will take your decision into account. But if you make a choice now and then regret it later, then you won’t be able to go back.”

Her mother was not just pleading but also trying to put the message across. Ever since Ginny had lost to Jamie Stevens in the race, her mother had been adamant that the failure was a good thing for her to experience and not just be subjected to helplessly. It was strange when one’s parent thought that failure was good for you. But may be, there was something in that. 

“I’ll… think about it.” Ginny muttered. Her parents looked suitably relieved and Ginny jumped up from the table, took the newspaper and left the room, making her way up the stairs. She knew she had enough time to decide on it, but she had to take care of something that was bothering her. Ginny went right into Charlie’s room, knowing that he’d be the only one willing to help her, despite the ire of mum.

Ginny knocked on the door (not out of politeness, but just to avoid seeing something she really didn’t want to). 

“Yeah?”

“It’s me. And keep it down!”

She pushed open the door and sneaked in, looking around her to check for her other brothers but nobody was out of their rooms. She shut the door and found Charlie perched onto of the dresser, looking out of the window, idly.

“It looks like it might rain, huh?” He said.

“No. Your mind’s going soft.”

“My sweet, gentle sister. What do you want?”

Ginny tossed the paper to him. Charlie caught it and slid down from atop the dresser. He landed neatly on the floor which creaked beneath his weight. “Ah! A winning mystery indeed!”

“Do you think you can find him?” Ginny asked.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Really Ginny? Don’t you have better things to do? What about your Quidditch national team selection and all that?”

“I’m thinking of postponing it… don’t tell mum or dad.” She said slowly, walking around and fiddling her hands.

Charlie stared at her. “Wow… are you serious? I thought you had your heart set on it?”

“I did. But then I started to really think about it. I want to finish Hogwarts. I’ll miss the castle so much! I mean, you, Bill, Percy and the twins still talk about school like you could go back.”

“Are you kidding?” Charlie chuckled. “Hogwarts was a defining part of our lives. It’s not just a school, Ginny, we learnt so much from other students. It’s not just about the magic but also the people and what they become to us and what we turn out in the end. I love my job. My friends at the settlements are some of the closest people I know. That’s kind of the way I felt with my Hogwarts friends. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t miss your classmates if you took the deal!”

Ginny sat on the bed, leaning back on her hands to stare up at the ceiling. “I’d miss them very much.”

“Of course you will. Who doesn’t make friends at Hogwarts? Or really, any school?”

He looked back at the paper. “I don’t actually recall a Stevens at Hogwarts.”

“He might be local.”

Charlie nodded, reading the article. Ginny waited for him to finish. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t want to leave the school without finishing it. She was sure that she’d regret it if she went ahead with the deal. She’d miss Luna and Celine and Colin and Ashley… she’d miss sharing the dorm with six other wild girls, running to classes, catching breakfast, lunch or dinner just before it all disappeared, the moving staircases, the giggling armor knights, the sulky ghosts, the pesky poltergeist, the exasperated teachers, the incredulous syllabi… 

Hogwarts wasn’t just one chapter of her life. It would encompass several, a whole section of them. How could she just skip that?

“No one seems to know anything about this Stevens.” Charlie muttered. Ginny looked back at him.

“Do you know Hermione Granger?”

“The Ravenclaw Ron keeps yammering about?”

“Yes. He told me that her parents ran a clinic, somewhere in Surrey. She’d definitely know where Jamie was. They’re friends.”

Charlie sighed. “You want me to go to Surrey?”

Ginny blinked at him repeatedly, trying to widen her eyes as much as possible. Then she started pouting and he relented. “… fine.”

~*~*~


	6. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go exactly as planned. Neither Harry nor Hermione are seasoned pretenders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It shouldn't have taken me this long to write up this chapter (but it did). Apologies for that. Here you go, enjoy!

Come Thursday, and Harry would be free. He had 500 galleons in hand, ready to pay off the Dursleys; John had agreed to let him stay in the store room once he was kicked out of the house. His debt would be gone and he’d be an adult with no regrets. 

During the previous night when the neighborhood slept, Harry had crept out and dug up the gold. He’d counted it again to make sure nothing was lacking. Hermione had said that the pouch had its share of resistant-thievery charms which was probably why Dudley couldn’t summon it before. Harry had added the gold he’d had previously to the three hundred and now, he held the answer to his problem in the palm of his hand. 

Tuesday was not a slow day. Harry didn’t complain. He was glad to be distracted and busy. Not to mention, his expertise in sorting out potions led to John talking him into another role.

“You...you want to mentor me?” Harry asked, incredulous. Who’d have ever thought he’d be a Healer of all things? Sure he knew the theory, but Potions was not his strong suit in school. His wand responded badly to him, seeing as how it was second hand. 

“You know how things work around here. You helped with quite a lot of patients with preliminary examinations. Your bedside manners are better most of the Healers here. You’re a familiar face, it’s reassuring to us all, really.”

John grinned as Harry gave a weak chuckle. “Oh... thanks.”

“I’m serious, Harry. When you get back to school, concentrate on Potions. I know it’s your last year, but if you can make an EE in your NEWTS, I’ll take you on as an apprentice. You know what most of everything can do. I think it’s a really good career option for you.”

Harry averted his eyes for a moment. He’d read the articles following the race. If he came out as the winner, he’d get several offers that would make his life. Harry had been shocked when he’d first seen them, but slowly saw the value of his own worth.

Maybe there was something the Dursleys hadn’t managed to stamp out.

With John standing in front of him, Harry now felt like he had more than one option to set his future. He’d never experienced such a sense of maturity and confidence. It was like the moment he’d secured the gold, life had turned out good, even great for him.

He nodded. “I’ll think about it. I mean... I’m better as Defence...”

“Right, you were thinking of joining the Aurors.” John remembered. Still, Aurors require top marks in Potions. So either way, focus on that. This place is always open for you, if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, John. I’ll let you know soon.” Harry agreed, smiling when John clapped him on his back.

“Good lad! Check if the new batch of Valerian roots has arrived. Merlin knows I ordered them a week ago!”

Harry recognized the dismissal and saluted, heading for the back door. It was like a whole set of new doors of opportunity, opening in front of him. He’d never had so many optimistic chances in life. He was on such a high, Harry wondered if anything could ever upset it.

He’d jinxed it.

Outside the back entrance, the crate of roots had been parked beside the door, but that wasn’t what had caught his immediate attention.

Charlie Weasley was standing at the opening to the alleyway. He was looking up at the sign that read ‘Spinner Clinic.’ Harry froze, watching the short, muscled dragon trainer. After a moment’s deliberation he entered the clinic.

What was he doing here?! How did Charlie find the place where Harry worked?

He grabbed the crate and brought it inside, heart hammering in his chest as he paced around the store room. Charlie wouldn’t recognize him without the glamors. Harry was relatively safe, but it was still nerve-wracking.

No, don’t do this to yourself. You didn’t technically break any rules. You just...tricked them.

Harry exhaled as he slowly walked out into the main hall of the clinic. He could pretend that Charlie was a customer or a patient. Just ignore him and act professional, no problem.

Harry made his way to the shelf at the end of the hall to stack a small bunch of roots next to the toad eyes. Charlie’s red hair was bright so he could keep an eye on him through his peripheral vision. After a second, he felt the man’s eyes on him. The hairs on his hand stood and Harry focused on his task, distributing the Valerian roots to where they were supposed to be amassed.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Oh no, Harry thought.

He turned around and watched Charlie stand right next to him, staring him down with a small frown.

“Yes, how can I help you?” Harry said, hoping his voice didn’t quiver.

Charlie blinked. “I beg your pardon, but do you have an older brother?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just... that... you sound very much like someone I’d met a while back.”

Harry almost gaped. Damn. Damn damn damn! His voice! Hermione hadn’t changed that! They’d completely forgotten about – 

“Not to mention the glasses.” Charlie smiled, nodding at him and Harry nearly choked. They should have changed the glasses! What had he been thinking?! How could he get away with this!? Charlie would find out, then Ginny would, then she’d hate him forever ...

“That’s... odd, no I don’t have any siblings. I have a cousin, though...”

“Oh, that’s probably him. Is he anywhere here?” Charlie asked, looking relaxed. He couldn’t possibly be aware of the hurricane inside his stomach. Harry felt like he could hurl.

“No... he doesn’t live here. I saw him last week, but then he left...” Harry shrugged like it was no big deal, trying not to cringe at the half truth.

“Right... anyway, is Hermione Granger here?”

Oh. That’s how they found them. Ron would know about Hermione’s parents. She hadn’t used any disguise. A cold grip held Harry. What if others tried to find him through her? A lot of people had seen them embracing. They would have known that she was his friend.

“No, she’s not here. Er, sorry, I’m sort of busy right now.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.” Charlie nodded, turned around and left. Harry breathed out, feeling a small bout of relief engulf him. It was temporary though. He still had the worry of others coming to search for him here. Hermione wouldn’t say anything if he asked her not to, but he didn’t want people goading her for answers either. 

Harry filed away all the roots, still feeling jittery. He made his mind to ask Jean to let him off for the day. She catalogued his pale, perspiring face and agreed without question.

He ran all the way to the house. The Dursleys were out, he was sure. Dudley always tried to stay past sunset and Petunia would congregate with her friends elsewhere. Vernon would be busy at work and Harry could move around undisturbed for a few hours. As of late, Dudley would give him dirty looks and he knew he had to be careful with the gold. He didn’t have anything else of value that they’d want, so he went up straight to his room to peel out one of the floorboards where he’d usually hide his stuff. 

The encounter with Charlie jarred him a bit. May be he would have to pay his uncle before Monday, just to stay safe. But he knew they’d start asking all sorts of questions as to where and how he got the gold.

“It’s not their business.” Harry muttered to himself, angrily. “I’m paying it off, they should be glad about that. And then I’m free.”

He stood up and looked around his room. He’d already packed the essentials into a bag, sure that the Dursleys would not let him take too much. He had planned to leave immediately after paying. He thought about it for a moment and decided that he didn’t want to risk it. He’d slip the gold into his uncle’s money drawer and leave a note for him.

And then, he’d never have to see any of them again.

Harry opened the door to the office, shouldering his bag, realizing how glad he’d be to never see the messy place again. He had cleaned the room several times in his teen years to find quite a lot of mistakes in vital papers. If Vernon ever tried anything, Harry knew he had enough fuel to threaten him. 

He placed the gold laden pouch inside the lowest drawer of the writing desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, to note down the exact amount that was in it, and a farewell.

He thought of the seven galleons left with him. May be he’d save up a few more in the coming month and could buy a proper wand soon. Engrossed in these thoughts, he searched the desk for an ink bottle. 

Somehow, as though it was meant to be, his eyes fell on the fire place beside the desk. The hearth was laid into the wall, blackened from continuous use it seemed. He spotted a letter under the blackened cinder and caught the sight of a bright golden wax seal on the flap.

It was a familiar logo. Harry picked it up on a whim, shaking it to look at the gold emblem of Gringotts.

He frowned. The Dursleys didn’t have an account with Gringotts. Vernon always went about saying the foulest things possible about Goblins, he would never...

But the Potters had had a vault there. Harry knew this because the roll of parchment that his uncle always produced to remind him of the debt had the seal of the Gringotts establishment. Harry had read it only once, but remembered the words that doomed him to paying a vague amount of gold to the Dursleys. Some bits of it had been redacted, but Harry didn’t think about that now.

He had eyes for the letter in his hand. It was heavy, made of valuable material. He tore it open, chest moving with measured breaths. 

_Mr. Vernon S. W. Dursley,_

_This is the final notice issued by the Bank of Gringotts to remind you of the principle sum of four hundred and ninety three galleons (not including tax) to be paid by Monday, fourth of August, 1997 to the Potter vault. Failure to comply will lead to emergent withdrawal from your account at Windfrey and Co., following a complete and thorough examination of your history*._

_Gornuk,_  
_Head of Wizard Debt Fulfillments, Gringotts.  
P.S. * As elucidated in our Terms and Conditions, the records of your borrowed amounts from the Potter vault will be subjected to rigorous scrutiny, starting from 1981, year of withdrawal. _

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there. Harry clutched the letter, the words floating above his head after he’d read it once, twice, thrice...

Hermione was right. There was something off about the debt. It wasn’t Harry who had to pay, but his uncle... to him.

All these years, they’d lied to him. They’d made him believe that he was at fault, that his parents were dirt poor and had to take gold from them to survive but in fact it was the other way around.

He heard the sound of apparition. Vernon was home. Harry couldn’t move. He felt his insides boil with a grave emotion. Anger. He simmered under the weight of the truth and nearly crushed the letter in his hand as he heard heavy footfalls on the staircase. Harry turned around, and glowered at his uncle who stepped into the room, looking surprised.

“What the bloody hell –”

“Did you think you could get away with this?” Harry asked, his voice a little too level for the anger rising unchecked.

His uncle stopped when he saw the letter in Harry’s hand, its envelope on the table. He spotted the bank’s seal, eyes widening.

“This is fraud.” Harry threatened. “You’re nothing more than a crook.”

“Put that letter down.” Uncle Vernon said, moustache trembling. Harry scoffed, a newfound bravery pumping in his veins.

“You realize I have enough evidence to have you locked up?” Harry’s voice shook. “All your little side deals at Grunnings, the fake signatures, the extra zeroes, all of it.”

“You wou –”

“And this! You borrowed from my parents, not the other way around! And you changed and hid the details on the original document, didn’t you?! What d’you think the Goblins would say if they realize you altered their papers? You nearly got me to pay off your debt!”

His uncle had his wand out before Harry could catch a breath. He ducked just in time for the writing desk to be hit with sharp red light. The pouch of gold, the gold he was about to pay his uncle, fell and hit the floor with a resonant thump.

Harry had no time to think about that. He brought out his own wand, trying to aim a disarming charm at his uncle, while stuffing the letter into his pocket.

A cutting spell grazed his arm, the exact place he’d landed on during the accident in the second round. Apparently, it hadn’t healed completely. Pain flared from the muscle and Harry jerked away, aiming again, but his vision exploded with red and he lost consciousness.

~*~

Hermione was on her way back from the library when she ran into Charlie Weasley. She blinked with large eyes nearly gasping out loud.

“Oh! Charlie!... Hi!”

“Hey!” He grinned, looking surprised. “That’s lucky, I was just about to leave.”

“What?”

“I was at your clinic just now, searching for you. Well, actually I was looking for Jamie.”

She swallowed. Oh... this was not very good. A little bad. She’d forgotten that Ron knew where she lived. She looked over to the houses in Privet Drive. While she lived ten minutes away from Harry, it was still short enough for people to find him if they knew who to search for.

“Um, well...” She stammered.

“He left, I know.” Charlie nodded, sticking his hands into his pockets and looking around the clean and pristine row of houses. “Still, I was just curious... okay, well, Ginny was curious. She gets very determined about some things, you know. Besides, Jamie left without saying goodbye.”

“So... you tracked us down here?” Hermione asked, dubious.

“Tracked? Crickey, you make it sound like I’m a bounty hunter. Nothing like that, Granger. Relax. I blame Ginny for this. I suppose it is kinda intrusive.”

Charlie seemed easy going. He might not know the truth yet. She felt guilty, the Weasleys had been nothing but nice to them, especially after Ginny had apologized for her misunderstanding. Hermione was glad Harry wasn’t here though. He might have caved and spilled the truth immediately. He tended to do things like that. The moment he thought he might get caught, he tried the quickest route to ensure plausible deniability, even if it meant upsetting the entire plan, whatever it may have been.  
It was a weakness of his.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think Harry would mind.” She said, trying to find a way to get out of the conversation.

Charlie looked at her, bemused. “Pardon?”

“He wouldn’t mind it.” Hermione repeated. Then she realised her mistake.

“Who’s Harry?” He asked.

She threw her hands in front of her and stammered. “I…I…I mean! I mean Jamie! I meant him! It’s funny! Sometimes… I just call him all sorts of things –”

But Charlie had a calculating look on his face. She stared, recognizing that expression on Ron when she’d seen Ron play an intense chess match. His eyes narrowed and his nose flared.

“You said Harry.”

“No I didn’t!”

“As in that kid who works in your clinic… who sounds like Jamie…”

Oh… sweet Morgana, somebody help her.

“Hey, Charlie!” Someone yelled from across the street. Hermione turned and almost sighed out loud in relief. One of Charlie’s friends, she guessed, was waving at him.

“Tonks!” He called in surprise.

The woman, had bright pink hair and a long tattoo that stretched from her neck, down her right arm till her wrist. Hermione blinked rapidly at the bright colors of her clothes. She was neat, yet had an air of organized chaos about her. Her eyes shone in happiness as she crossed the street and gave Charlie a tight hug. He laughed, squeezing her back.

“It’s been so long! Nice undercut!” She cheered.

“Thanks. Four years, yeah?”

“Yeah! What’re you up to? Meeting with your girlfriend?” She looked at Hermione with curiosity.

“Um no. Not his… no.” Hermione said firmly, hoping she didn’t sound odd. Charlie laughed.

“Nope. A friend of Ron’s… and mine, we met at the flying race last week.”

“I missed that! I heard it was great, that the winner was incognito?”

“Apparently.” Charlie raised an eyebrow at Hermione. “This is Hermione Granger, Tonks. And Hermione, this is Nymphadora Tonks, my year mate from Hogwarts.”

“Call me Tonks.” The woman said with a sudden fierceness in her tone as she glared at a smirking Charlie.

“You’re an Auror!” Hermione exclaimed. She’d caught sight of the small metal badge, pinned to the front of her shirt. Tonks smiled. “Auror-nearly-out-of-training. You’re still at school, right?”

“Seventh year now.”

“Nice. Enjoy it, I still miss Hogwarts like anything. Ask Charlie here, he was the craziest bloke I’ve ever known and that includes me.”

“I didn’t realize you were a bloke, Tonks.”

“Put a cork in it, Weasley.”

Charlie shook his head grinning. “So what’re you doing here? Don’t tell me you live here!”

“Ha! Look at the place, it’s stifling! Nah, just got called to check out a disturbance. It was a false alarm any way.”

“What disturbance?” Hermione asked, spine straightening.

“Some spells thrown about inside a house. Don’t worry, I checked it out.” Tonks assured her, but for some reason Hermione’s skin crawled.

“Um… which house?”

Tonks sighed like Hermione was being nosy but answered anyway. “No. 4, Privet Drive. I talked to the guy living there and looked inside. It was clean.”

But Hermione’s heart rate increased and she clutched at the strap of her satchel bag. Something was wrong. She knew it. She wasn’t sure what though. It was nearly four in the evening, Harry should be at work and so should his uncle. 

“That’s where my friend lives.” She whispered. She looked up at Tonks. “Are you sure everything was fine?”

Tonks confirmed it but Charlie suddenly caught her concern. “Let me guess. Jamie isn’t really Jamie.”

She pressed her lips together. “N…no. It’s… he needed the gold. And it wasn’t cheating! I just changed his appearance. Everything he did on the track, it was all him. He didn’t break the rules! I swear!”

“What are you talking about?” Tonks frowned.

“The flying race.” Hermione relented miserably. “Harry disguised himself and joined in.”

“And won.” Charlie noted, with considerable surprise in his voice. “But why did he need the disguise?”

She looked up at Charlie and Tonks, sighing heavily, hoping Harry would forgive her, if he’d ever consider seeing her face again.


End file.
